The Cherished One
by blackfeather1127
Summary: A young girl growing up during the tremulous times of the Italian Renaissance will attempt to unravel the mysteries surrounding her mothers death and take revenge on the mysterious group known simply as the "Rogues". Teaming up with a notorious assassin, she will journey across Italy and learn things about life, love, and loss she had never before known. Eventual Ezio/OC
1. Chapter 1

Unfortunately, I do not own AC. I only take credit for my dear OC's.

There may be some slight OOC with certain characters, but I shall do my best to keep everyone IC.

Enjoy, rate, and review if you'd like! :) And please no flames, as this is my first time attempting an AC story.

Early Fall, 1478

The sun rose late and lazy that humid day. It seemed like it took ages before it shone, at last, bold and bright across the Verona streets that slowly began to fill with people. Vendors in the marketplaces began their calls for their goods, mothers young and old were up at the moment dawn broke to prepare the early morning meal, start the laundry, or tend to young children.

But, even long after the sun had risen and begun its daily sojourn across the sky, there was one whom was still sleeping, although it was far from a restful night. In the heart of Veronesi, a beautiful, pale grey stone villa lay, bathed in sunlight. The architecture bore a designedly Greek style, with a plentiful assortment of various Greek décor; small fountains featuring different gods and goddesses poured clear water into decorative stone basins, spread across the villa's walls. A collection of various homes, stores, and workshops surrounded a round, cobblestone courtyard, with trees peppered between the buildings. In its center, a large, elaborate fountain, carved with grape vines, featured a statue of a lovely young woman holding a basket of grapes in her lap, kneeling and gazing lovingly at her little daughter nearby, whom, at no more than 2 years old, plucked grapes from a vine.

Around this fountain, young men and women stopped to chat as merchants and workmen began to bustle to provide the villa's daily supplies. The villa's manor, an ornate, sprawling building, echoing the Parthenon, stood down a path behind the fountain, with a lovely view of the entire courtyard and a wide set of stairs leading to the manors doors. Through said doors, up the grand, spiral staircase, and up one more small flight of stairs, a lovely young lady lay abed.

The girl was fast asleep, although the doors to her balcony were open, letting in the early morning sunshine. The curtains on her canopy bed fluttered in the breeze, but the cooling breeze did nothing to calm the girl, who was tangled in her bed sheets like a fly in a spider's web. Thrashing from side to side, her thick, dark brown curls clung to her sweaty neck. She was having a nightmare, and she knew it. Yet why couldn't she wake up?

For the past few months, every single night, the girl had been having very vivid nightmares. She was always being pursued; always running from someone, but whom, exactly, she was running from varied with each nightmare she had. She was always terrified that she would get caught, and yet she felt a thrill of exhilaration every time she glanced back at her pursuer, whose face and appearance was also prone to changing.

This time, her nightmare was the worst one yet. Dressed in clothes that were faded and old, she wove in and out of people in a busy, Middle Eastern bazaar. The guards of the city she was in were not after her, but, instead, it was an intimidating looking man dressed in white. She was always too far ahead of him to make out his face, or other details of his appearance. She just knew she had to keep running. Finally, she scrambled her way up the wall of building and jumped down on the other side. She thought she had finally escaped, but gasped in shock when she heard her pursuer drop neatly down in front of her, trapping her. He started to walk towards and was reaching out his hand…

"Eaaaaaaaaaaah!" She screamed, waking instantly and sitting up in bed, a hair curling scream pouring from her mouth. Realizing what she'd done, she stuffed her knuckles in her mouth, hoping that she had cut off her scream before any servants came running; but she was too late. Downstairs, and upstairs, she could hear thundering feet as they sped around corners, down steps, and through rooms to see what was the matter.

The first one at her door, nearly throwing her door off the wall, was a chubby, darkly tanned Italian woman with short, fluffy black hair, dressed in a black servants dress with a smudged white apron. Her face was flushed and she rushed over to the girl, muttering to herself. "Madre di Dio, figlia, qual è il tuo problema?" She said in an anxious voice, grabbing her shoulders. "I'm fine, Chachi, fine. Just a…nightmare, that's all." "A nightmare? Ah, mia cara, come here." The girl's nanny wrapped her arms around her and gave her a soft, warm hug. "It's all over now. You're safe; right where you belong." A faint grumble came from the girls belly under her sheet. Smiling, Chachi stood and helped up the girl. "Let's see if we can't find you some breakfast, no?"

After a filling breakfast, the girl dressed herself in a lovely, dark charcoal dress with white pinstripes and a black corset, leaving her shining, dark brown tresses down her back, tied with a long red ribbon. She headed outside into the midmorning Verona sunshine and went around her manor home, to the yards at the villa, which were miles of sprawling green hills with rows of deep purple grapes.

Peering down each row near the manor, she finally spotted her father down one row, a few faint beads of sweat trickling down his tan face, the sun's rays making his thinning brown and silver hair glint. "Buongiorno, Papa!" She said, leaning over his shoulder and pecking his cheek. "Ciao, Traviatta." He said, smiling at her. "Chachi told me that you had another nightmare." He said, looking concerned, as he dropped a few more grapes into the basket at his feet. "I did. It was one of the worst one's I've had." "Who was chasing you this time?" "Another man. This time he was all in white, but I couldn't see his face. I was in the Middle East somewhere." Signor Luigi Sognitore stood up and put his hands on his daughter's small shoulders. "Darling, you'll be sure to tell me if anything… happens today while you're out with Isabella and Martina?" "Of course, Papa. But, why?" Luigi shook his head and smiled. "No reason. I just want mia bambina to be safe." Traviatta nodded and, picking up her father's basket of grapes, she turned back towards the manor. "Now, have fun today! And remember to be home by dusk! I have something to show you." Unable to restrain her excitement at seeing her friends, Traviatta beamed and him and hurried back towards the manor.

Traviatta dropped off the basket of grapes with her father's workers at the barn, which was full of the rich, sweet smell of wine as it fermented and grapes being pressed by many pairs of brown feet. After checking to make sure that all was well at the barn, Traviatta dusted herself off and left the manor. She went down the path, through the courtyard, and out into the streets of Verona, to find her friends at the marketplace. It was the beginning of the last normal day Traviatta Sognitore would ever know.

Trying her best to be patient, Traviatta slowly wove in, out, and between the various men, women, and the occasional child that were roaming their way through the busy Verona streets. Eventually, she went around a corner and grinned brightly; two girls, both about Traviatta's age of 18, stood next to a market stall, chatting amicably. The taller of the two was a willowy girl with tan skin and dark red hair. Her dress was dark blue and simple, but pretty. The girls face was soft and dreamy as she talked with her friend, a plump blonde girl with thick dark ringlets and a dark pink dress covered in big pink flowers.

Suddenly, the red headed girl whirled around and a grin spread across her face. "Hey! Traviatta's here!" The girl cried, nudging her friend. Traviatta beamed and sprinted forward, hugging the redhead tightly. "Isabella, I missed you so much!" Traviatta said, releasing her to look her in the eyes. "How was Spain?" She asked her half Spanish, half Italian best friend. "Wonderful!" Isabella replied, her voice a unique mixture of Spanish and Italian accents. "Well, Traviatta, now that this reunions over, could you spare me a hug too?" The blonde girl piped in, smirking playfully. "Of course you can, Martina!" Traviatta giggled, running to her and giving her a hug too. "Are you girls ready to go?" Isabella asked after they released each other. "I am if you are." Traviatta answered her. "Bene! Then let's go! I have a few things I'd like to pick up."

The girls stopped by numerous merchant stalls and booths, gazing at the wares displayed at each merchants table. Traviatta was so happy to be among both of her friends again, after what had felt like an eternity. After the girls had bought a few things apiece, as well as picked up some cheese and pastries for lunch, Traviatta stopped them near an almost empty side road. She pulled previously hidden bundle from inside her basket and vanished down the alley.

She emerged a few minutes later dressed in a peasants white blouse and black trousers, with a red ribbon tying back her long hair. "What kind of an outfit is that?!" Martina exclaimed when Traviatta reappeared. "A brilliant one, that's what! Do you have an extra set?" Isabella asked excitedly. "Absolutely! Here!" Traviatta handed another bundle of clothes to Isabella, who vanished down the alley herself. When she came back, dressed in a brown shirt and black trousers, Martina looked uncertain. "My father will murder me if I get caught wearing an outfit like that…" "Live a little, Martina!" "I really don't think I should…" "Come on, per favore? For me?" Traviatta stuck out her bottom lip and folded her hands, feigning a look of innocence. After a moment's hesitation, Martina couldn't suppress a snicker and was gone down the alley herself, reappearing in a green shirt and brown trousers.

"Follow me." Traviatta murmured once all of the girls had changed. A mischievous grin on her lips, Traviatta turned to face the wall of the nearest building and backed up. Then, sprinting forward, she leapt up high and grabbed onto the nearest window and began to climb up. When she reached the top of the building, she was a little sweaty, but she was laughing as she looked down at her friends, who were gazing at her like they'd never seen her before.

"What are you doing up there, Traviatta?! It's forbidden to be on the rooftops!" Martina cried, nearly emptying the contents of her shopping basket on the street. "Ridicolo! It's only forbidden for us to get caught! Now, andare! There's a ladder over there you can use." She gestured towards a wooden ladder on the side of the building. "Alright, Travi, but if we get caught, we're saying it's your idea!" Isabella said as she rounded the building and started to slowly climb the wooden ladder. "How am I supposed to climb with this basket of…ohhh, merda!" Martina swore loudly as a few of the parcels in her basket tumbled out and fell to the foot of the ladder, to the loud laughter of Traviatta and Isabella, who'd already made it to the rooftop, the goods in both of their baskets completely unsettled.

Another trip up the ladder later, the girls followed Traviatta across the rooftops of Verona to a tower, usually used as a guard post, but this one, the girls could see, was empty. "There's no chance you expect us to climb that." Martina said, gazing up at the tower and nearly trembling; she was a very fearful person by nature and always prone to fretting, which made the close friendship between her and the tomboyish, energetic Traviatta an unusual thing indeed. There's a pulley over there to use to pull up our baskets. And anyway, si pollo grande, there's no guards at the top." Isabella said, rolling her eyes at her friend's fearful expression. Often referred to by Traviatta as her "Ombra", the vivacious Isabella was the only person Traviatta knew that could keep up with her, at least most of the time. "You could always stay down here and…oh, I don't know, wait for the guards to show up." Traviatta said, grinning. "That is, if the thieves don't get here." Isabella continued with a smirk. With a pout, Martina crossed her arms. "I still don't think it's safe." "Well, we're going up anyway, so…arrivederci!" Traviatta replied, putting her and Isabella's baskets on the board at the pulley's bottom. Both Isabella and Traviatta began their ascent up the tower, when Martina called to them as they were about ¼ of the way up. "Wait! Oh…! I'll go too!" Isabella and Traviatta caught each other's eye and Traviatta rolled hers. "But if I break a nail, you two stronzi will pay!" Giggling, the girls ascended the tower as the afternoon sun burned brightly above them.

Sitting at the top of the tower, the girls took out some pastries, cheeses, and other snacks to munch on. "Traviatta, I had no idea you and Isabella were so in shape." Martina said, wiping her forehead with a hand as she took a large sip of the wine that Traviatta had brought from home. "You have to admit climbing is fun!" "Fun for you, perhaps. I'm exhausted!"

"Well, I really need to burn off some energy! I feel like such a slug. Isa, want to race me to that chimney and back?" Traviatta asked Isabella, who was pacing the top of the tower, wine glass in hand. "I don't know…" She said, glancing down at the streets below, looking speculative. Suddenly, she jumped and nearly dropped her glass. "Isa! Are you alright?!" Traviatta asked, standing up quickly. "Is it guards?!" She continued, ready to pull out the dagger she had strapped to her waist if needed. "No, no! Nothing like that. Just…look down there!"

Traviatta glanced down to where Isabella was pointing. Standing at the entrance to an alleyway across from the tower stood three boys of about the girl's age. None of them were particularly good-looking, but one of them, a chestnut haired, lanky boy dressed in a blue shirt, was gazing at the tower where the girls were with intent eyes. Catching Traviatta's gaze, he stared at her for a second and then turned back to his friends. "Mio Dio!" Traviatta gasped, spinning around to face the girls "It's Rodrigo!" Traviatta cried, looking nervous. "You mean that boy who thinks you're his amore?" Martina asked, looking very calm compared to the other girls as she calmly tossed an olive into her mouth. "That's the one. Ugh, I really hope they don't come up here and bother us." "Too late. Here they come!" Isabella said, looking almost as fearful as Traviatta, who had begun to frantically load everything back into her basket and put it back on the pulley. "We have to get out of here! If he sees me…" "Enough chat! Start climbing!" Isabella interrupted, as she started her descent.

By the time the girls had made it to the ground and taken up their baskets, Traviatta had calmed down, at least somewhat. "Think we lost them?" She asked the girls as they hurried down the streets with no particular destination in mind. "I think we might have." Martina asked, glancing over her shoulder. "Dannazione! Here they come now." "Quick, act like you don't see them!" Isabella hissed, noticing the three boys just up ahead, standing near a merchant stall.

The three girls tried to pass the boys, chattering in Italian about a new dress of Martina's, when a voice spoke up from behind them. "Traviatta! Mi amore!" "Quick! Split up! I'll talk to you girls later!" Traviatta hastily muttered to the girls, who nodded and scattered down different side streets. Traviatta ran around a corner and climbed up a nearby building. She could hear the boys' voices behind her, probably looking for her.

Once she was on the roof, she sprinted forward, towards the Villa Sognitore, leaping gracefully over the rooftops as she went. "You can't run forever, my fiore! I will find you!" She heard Rodrigo call. Once she'd made it within a few meters or so of the Villa, she ducked into a nearby rooftop garden. "It looks like you'll have to wait a bit longer to win the heart of that one, amico." "That's not all I hope to win." Rodrigo said calmly, to the snickers of his friends. "Come; let's leave before the guards change shifts."

When Traviatta was sure that the guys had gone and their voices had faded, she stood up and swung her legs over the short wall of the rooftop garden and ducked her head back out. Her eyes were unadjusted to the burning orange and yellow glow of the sun and she shielded them, when she swore under her breath. "Merda! Papa said to be home by dusk!" With a last glance over her shoulder to make sure no guards had seen her and to make sure the boys' had finally gone, she dashed forward, over a few more rooftops, hopefully to make it home before dusk fell.

By the time she had ran up the path to the Villa, the sun had just set and the sky was slowly fading from the blue, orange, and gold colors of sunset to the lovely lavender color of early evening. She knocked three times on the Villa door, and the family maid, Catherine, opened the door. She was a wisp of a girl; very thin, with light brown hair, and dressed in a black dress with a white apron, like Traviatta's nursemaid, Chachi. "Mistress Sognitore. Your father is waiting for you in his office." Catherine said after bobbing a slight curtsy. "Thank you, Catherine. Would you be a darling and take these packages up to my room?" "Yes, Mistress." Catherine said softly and hurried up the grand spiral staircase and down one hallway, towards Traviatta's room, while Traviatta went down the other hallway, towards her father's office, after quickly changing out of her rebellious outfit and back into her dress.

She knocked on the door to his office, feeling slightly apprehensive, yet excited at the possibility her father was about to show her something very interesting. A very curious person by nature, Traviatta loved to try new things and see things that few others had a chance to see. So, the idea that she was seeing something special had piqued her interest.

"Papa? Are you in?" Traviatta called, opening the door slightly. "I am! I am! Do come in, my dear!" Opening the door all the way, Traviatta glanced around her father's office. It had a tall ceiling, with bookshelves on either side of the great wooden desk in the middle of the room. A black metal chandelier, lit with candles, hung from the ceiling, shining its light off the tall, diamond patterned windows behind the desk, which reflected back a smooth, black nighttime sky. Luigi Sognitore was standing at the bookshelf on the left side of the room, looking through a fat red book. He put it away when Traviatta entered and smiled at her. "Did you have a good time with the girls today?" He asked, sitting down at his desk chair as Traviatta sat in one of the cushioned chairs opposite. "We did! We had to run away from Rodrigo and his boys." Luigi looked up from the paper he was writing on. "Bene. Be sure to stay away from him. I don't trust him, or his leech of a father." "Of course, Papa." "Regardless, I bet you're wondering about why I called you here." Traviatta nodded, trying not to look too eager. Luigi smiled and stood up. "Over here." He said, going to stand in front of one of the bookshelves.

Traviatta stood at her father's shoulder and watched as he took books from the shelf and set them on their spines. When he had finished, he had set a good deal of the books on the shelf in the formation of what looked to Traviatta like a stone arrowhead. Suddenly, the bookshelf began to sink into the floor. When it had vanished into the ground, there was an opening in the wall, leading down a long stone hallway. Luigi laughed at Traviatta's confused expression. "Papa, what is…?" "It's time you knew what really happened to your mother, Traviatta." "What?! But, Papa, you said she died after I was born." "She died when you were about two years old, dearest. Follow me and I promise I'll explain everything."

Luigi headed down the sloped stone pathway and through the dark hallway, which opened onto a large round room with marble floors. An enormous statue of a man dressed in Middle Eastern style robes occupied most of the space in the room, with alcoves carved into the walls where statues about half the size of the man stood watch. These smaller statues were men dressed in similar robes and looking a lot like soldiers. "Papa?! What's going on? Who is this man? Where are we?" Traviatta asked with a slightly panicked note in her voice. "Where do I start?" Luigi sighed to himself, sitting at the base of the larger statue. Traviatta sat next to her father and put a hand on his. "Papa, you can tell me. I'll listen, I promise." Luigi looked at his daughter and sighed once more. Then, he began to speak.

"Traviatta, your mother's father, your grandfather, was named Machiavelli Visitone Da Firenze." "A Florentine?" "Yes. He was a judge in Florence for his entire life. He only moved here to Veronesi after your mother and I were married. Your grandfather was a very prestigious man in his day. He took to law school like a fish to water and graduated at the top of his class. He opened a law firm in Florence and soon enough he was known as the best lawyer in Florence, perhaps all of Italia. He was very wealthy and very happy. But he said often that the happiest time in his life was marrying your grandmother, Maria, and the birth of your mother, Florentina.

"When your mother was about 14, your grandfather had just finished an important trial and the plaintiff in the case was a notorious Florentine murderer. But, your grandfather did not know that this man had connections, with very bad people. He was walking home one night, when a man cornered your grandfather in an alleyway and threatened him, with a blade at his throat. If your grandfather did not find a way to get this murderer pardoned for his crimes, the assassin would kill your grandfather and his entire family. Your grandfather, being the cunning man that he was, renegotiated things with the assassin and agreed to pay the assassins guild a select sum of money each year for as long as he lived. But, your grandfather didn't know that there was a catch." "A catch? What did they do to him?!" Traviatta asked, her eyes burning darkly.

"The assassins had grown impatient with your grandfather and his inconsistent payments to protect our family. By the time your grandfather turned 80, your mother and I were married and you were a happy little toddler and the light of our lives." He said, squeezing his daughter's hands with a warm smile. But, it vanished quickly as he continued. "Your grandparents both loved you very much, but, on the day after your grandfather's birthday, these assassins, claiming to be a part of a group called the Rogue Brotherhood, showed up at your grandparent's villa, where you, your mother, myself, were staying to celebrate your grandfather's birthday. The assassins came in and explained that your grandfather's 'contract' with the Rogues had run out and that he could either come quietly or they would kill his entire family. Your mother…she stood up and confronted the assassins. She stood in front of your grandfather, grandmother, and me, with you in my arms. The assassins threatened to kill her if she did not step aside, but she did not move and told the assassins that if they wanted her family, they would have to take her life first." "Brava, Mama!" "There is more to the story than that, my darling." Luigi continued in a quieter voice. "The assassins seemed to be impressed with your mother's bravery and hurried away, promising to not harm your grandfather." Luigi took a deep, shaky breath and Traviatta could see the tears in his eyes as he continued. "That night your mother and I were asleep with the windows open. It was a beautiful night and the stars were just lovely, so we kept them open. I was almost asleep when I…I heard your mother cry out." Luigi paused to take another deep breath and Traviatta could feel her own eyes start to swell with tears; she knew what was coming next. "Those bastardos had stabbed your mother…sweet, beautiful Florentina…with a poison dagger right to her gentle heart. Then, they killed your grandfather and grandmother as well. I only managed to get away by jumping out a window with you in my arms and hiding just outside the city" He said bitterly, doing his best to squint back tears. "Oh! …Oh, Papa! My Papa…Papa…" Traviatta cried and flung herself into her father's arms, heavy sobs racking her small frame. For what felt like an eternity, she sobbed into her father's shoulder, the pain and anguish of all those years of not knowing what had happened to her mother all came out.

"I'm so…so very sorry for waiting this long to tell you." Luigi said when Traviatta's sobs had begun to slow and turned to trembles. "But, you deserve to know the truth. And, maybe now, you can join me." With flushed, tear stained cheeks, Traviatta slowly looked back up at her father, her eyes sparking with fury. "Papa, I want to find those men who killed Grandpa, and Grandma, and Mama. They will pay. I know not if I am strong enough to do it, but I will make them pay. They will suffer like they made her suffer. I will not rest until I have shed the blood of every last Rogue." Traviatta's hands balled into fists at her side, her body shaking with rage, her feet tapping with excitement. "I know you seek revenge, my dear. And, that is precisely why I have brought you here. Do you this statue behind us?" "Yes." "This man was the founder of a select group of assassins, called the Black Brotherhood. His name was Malik Al-Sayf and he worked alongside Altair Ibin-La'ahad, the founder of the White Brotherhood, for most of his life. You see, my child, Malik is our distant ancestor." "That's all very interesting, Papa. But what does it have to do with…?" "You see, Traviatta, all those times in your childhood when I was away from you, I was…out on missions or assigning them to other members of the Black Brotherhood. I'm their leader; Luigi Sognitore Da Veronesi. And today, my dearest daughter, you can begin your training."

~ So, what'd you think? :)

Chapter 2 should be up sometime soon.

Thanks for reading! Ciao!~


	2. Chapter 2

~ Here's Chapter 2! Rather short compared to the first one, but things are about to get more exciting! :) Chapter 3 should be up later this week.

~Again, I do not own Assassin's Creed, just my darling OC's.

~Enjoy! Please feel free to rate and review if you'd like. ^_^

Traviatta looked at her father for a long silence, mouth agape. "Father, I am not gullible enough as to allow you to pull the wool over my eyes this easily. You cannot be an assassino. You've been working the vineyards for years. I should know; I've helped you all this time!" She said eventually, shaking her head. "I would never jest about this, Traviatta. Please, believe me." He rested his hand, palm up, on Traviatta's knee. Out of nowhere, a thin, sharply pointed silver blade flashed and was quickly gone again. Luigi shrugged off his black coat, to reveal the silver mechanism on his arm where the hidden blade was located. "Have I convinced you yet?" He asked with a smile as the blade flashed again. "Amazing. Such a simple design, yet so complex in its abilities, the lives it could take..." She muttered, admiring the ornately patterned silver arm guard. "Are you ready, my little assassin?" He asked her and she looked up at her father's familiar brown eyes. Taking a shaky breath, her heart pounding, she straightened herself up and took her father's hand. "I swear to you, Papa, on sweet Mama's grave, that I will not rest until I have taken the life of every single Rogue by my own hand." "And that's why I'm here, my dear! To teach you everything I know, if you will let me, of course." Suddenly, there was the loud, steady chiming of a church bell from outside. It rang ten, eleven, twelve times then stopped. "Ah, but it is late now. We can begin tomorrow, after you've rested."

Luigi walked with his daughter to her bedroom door. "Let me or Chachi know if you have another nightmare. If they persist or get worse, perhaps we could visit a doctor and get you something to clear your head." "Medicine? Bleh." She said, sticking her tongue out. Chuckling, Luigi ruffled her hair. "Get some sleep now. I'll see you in the morning." Traviatta hugged him quickly and opened her room's door. She tumbled into her freshly cleaned white nightgown and fell into bed, suddenly aware of just how tired she was; all those tears had taken a lot out of her. She fell asleep to the image of her mother, dark haired and beautiful, standing with her arms spread wide in front of her family.

She slept much easier that night. Her dream was the same running dream, but today it felt less frightening, and more competitive, like a race. She was in a green forest, full of tall trees, and she sprinted forward, weaving between the tree trunks and leaping over fallen logs. Occasionally, she'd look over her shoulder at the man chasing her, but she couldn't see him. Laughing, she kept running and she stopped at the edge of a large ravine…"Traviatta, sweet, time to rise and shine!" A voice called in a cheerful tone. Traviatta rolled over and grumbled when a cold cloth was dabbed at her forehead. Her eyes opened slowly to see Chachi standing nearby, pouring water into her bedside basin while another servant, Chachi's daughter, Kat, set out Traviatta's clothes for the day. "At last you are awake!" Chachi said, looking at her over her shoulder as she scattered rose petals in the basin of hot water. "Your father has asked that you meet him outside at 8 o clock by the fountain, to begin whatever it is you are doing." "Too early…" Traviatta muttered as she sat up, her dark hair curling in every direction.

Chachi and Kat hurried from the room once they'd finished and Traviatta pulled off her nightgown and slipped her dress over her head. After taming her hair with her bone handled brush, she glanced at her reflection in the looking glass by her door. She looked alright, she supposed, apart from the faint dark circles under her eyes. As she headed down the stairs, she noticed the house was unusually quiet. On a normal day, the servants and sometimes her father would be hurrying about, cleaning, cooking, fixing, or working in some way, but strangely not today.

She left the house and went out to the fountain in the Villa's courtyard. It was a grey, cloudy morning and the courtyard was not yet alive with activity. The sun, although already up, had yet to show its face from behind its veil of clouds. Traviatta sat on the fountains edge and looked around, alternating between watching the courtyard and the clouds, which were scuttling quickly across the sky. A humid breeze blew by and she shivered; they were in for quite a storm. Right on cue, Traviatta felt a wet rain drop fall onto her shoulder.

"They'll need help getting the animals inside and the harvest too!" She thought, wondering if that was the reason her father had failed to meet her outside. "He's probably just busy getting everything battened down for the storm. I'll ride to the barn and see what's going on." Traviatta stood up and left the courtyard and headed back up the path towards the house, the rain coming in droves now and soaking Traviatta to the skin. She knew Chachi would be furious that she'd been running around during a storm, but she didn't care. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly.

From far away, she heard the heavy clip-clop of her horse's feet. Soon, her great, black stallion, Cornelius, mane shining with rain, clattered to stop in front of her. Pushing her wet hair away from her face, she scrambled up onto the horse and flicked the reins. "To the barn, boy! Yea!" She gave the horse a gentle kick with his feet and Cornelius took off, around the manor and out to the vineyard.

When Traviatta had arrived at the wine making barn, she hitched Cornelius to a nearby tree branch and ran towards the barn. "Mistress Traviatta! You're here!" One of the wine makers called. "What's going on?" Traviatta asked him, doing her best to keep calm, although inside she was panicking that the sudden rain would damage the crops and possibly ruin the harvest. "We have men coming at the vines from every angle to get as many harvested before the storm hits, but we're short! If we don't get more help soon, we could lose half the harvest!" "Go and fetch a basket or two. I'll get on it! One person on horseback is better than a few men on foot, especially in this weather." "Yes, Mistress!"

The man ran off, into the barn, and returned a short while later with severalbaskets under each arms. "Here you are, Mistress! Please be careful!" "Naturally, Rodrigo. Tell my father where I've gone if you see him!" "Yes, Mistress!"

With that final word, Traviatta took off down the hill, where several wine makers and other workers were already frantically moving about to get. At the foot of the hill spread the entire Sognitore vineyard and olive orchard. A few workers were already handling the covers for the olive trees, but there were still what looked like acres of grapevines that needed to be harvested, so as to prevent them from the impending storm's damaging rain, that could cause mildew and lost crops.

Traviatta leapt from her horse's back and sprinted at top speed down row after row of grapes, tossing bundles of the dark berries into her basket as fast as her fingers could go. Once she had as many harvested as she could, she whirled Cornelius around to head back inside, mud splattering Cornelius and herself. Suddenly, ahead of her was a piercing blast of lightening, which struck a nearby tree, almost right on one of the olive bushes. As if on cue, a strong, harsh wind blew and a pelting of hail began to beat at the earth. Cornelius whinnied and reared back on his hind legs with fright from the sudden hail and the lightening's blaring flash. "Ai! Ai! Easy, Cornelius! Easy!" She cried, hanging on tightly with one hand in his mane, while stroking his neck with the other.

Workers still filed up and down rows, making sure as much was harvested as possible.

Cornelius skidded to halt inside the warm stables and Traviatta piled some fresh hay in his stall. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, grassy smell. She then took a fresh towel and dried off Cornelius enough so that he could sleep comfortably. She stroked his soft pink nose gently and murmured quietly to him before leaving the stables, where the sky was still dark with the storm, but the rain had slowed enough that Traviatta could head back to the Manor safely.

"Papa? Where are you, Papa?" She called to him in the manor's front lobby. The manor was still strangely quiet, except for some faint, delicate footsteps that Traviatta recognized as Kat's. When she was about halfway up the stairs, she heard a brief shriek and a cry coming from her father's office. Wondering what was wrong, Traviatta took a few hesitant steps down the hall towards the office. "Oh, oh, who's there? Aiuto! Aiuto!" She heard Kat cry from inside. Traviatta took off running and kicked open the door and gasped at what she saw.

Inside the office, it looked to her as though a tornado had run through it. Her father's desk lay, overturned, in the middle of the room, the papers originally resting on it scattered all around. Books had fallen from the shelves, landing in all sorts of disarray, pages and bindings splayed wide. Her father's chair behind the desk had been violently turned over, and the office windows had been broken open. Variously sized shards of glass from the windows twinkled on the carpet, a few of the shards stained with blood, appearing like red diamonds broken from the crown of a king.

Traviatta hurried over to Kat, who was kneeling next to the desk, shivering. "Oh, oh, Mistress!" Kat cried, looking up at Traviatta with wide, frightened eyes. "Kat, what's happened here? Who did this? Where's Papa?" Traviatta asked, taking Kat's hands in hers. "Oh, Mistress, Messire Sognitore has been kidnapped!"


	3. Chapter 3

~ Hey hey! :) Here's Chapter 3; sorry I took forever, schools been a nightmare. I've got a lot of updates for you all; the next few chapters should be up soon! And hello to my new follower!

~Note: I don't own Assassin's Creed, just my OC's. Enjoy! ^_^

"What?! Kidnapped? Who? Why?!" Traviatta gasped, squeezing Kat's hands tightly, her own heart pounding as loud as the rain outside. "I-I'm afraid I don't know, Mistress! I left to fetch Messire a drink and I came back and…and…!" Kat burst into sudden sobs, tears pouring down her face. Annoyed, Traviatta gave the girl a swift slap on the cheek. "Get ahold of yourself, ragazza!" Kat's sobs choked out and soon subsided. "Molto grazie, Mistress. I just…feel like this whole thing was my fault!" "No, Kat. It had nothing to do with you. You were just following my father's orders. Now," She helped the still shaky Kat to her feet. "I'd like for you to search the house and clean up any puddles from the rainstorm. I'll take care of things here." "Y-yes Mistress! Right away!"

Kat hurried away and down the steps to do Traviatta's task, while she scanned the mess that was once her father's office. There were obvious signs of a struggle; scratch marks were noticeable on the dark wooden desk, as well as a few smears of blood. Traviatta circled the office, looking under the scattered objects for any sort of clue as to where her father might be, and why. When she was about to circle the room a second time, she noticed a gleaming metal object hidden under one of the few books that remained shelved. She picked it up in one hand, noticing a few more smears of blood along the binding and a few pages. It was evident to her that her father had broken his nails on his desk to get away from his captors, who had broken in through the windows, and once they had gotten hold of him, she assumed that he had gotten away, only to the throw the book and key onto the shelf before the captors dragged him away.

Traviatta turned the silver key over in her hand. It looked unremarkable and not at all familiar. Hoping that the book might contain some clue, she grazed through the pages, briefly scanning each one, until she came upon one of the last few pages of the book, which was an Italian book about burial services and tombs. On the page, someone had hurriedly circled the words 'open' 'tomb' 'key' and 'live.' "Papa…" Traviatta sighed sadly, holding the book to her heart. After her mother's death, she and her father had been very close. Without him, she felt as alone as if she had never known him. To her surprise, a hot tear trickled down her cheek. Suddenly angry, she wiped it off, her fury at her father's captors building.

Throwing the book violently across the room, she looked back to the shelf where the books had been so neatly arranged. Only one book was untouched; graciously, the book leading to the tomb of Malik Al-Sayf still sat in its place. After checking down the hallway to make sure no one was watching, she carefully turned the book on its spine and, just like before, the shelf slowly lowered into the ground, revealing the entrance within. Not knowing what to expect, Traviatta took a deep, shaky breath and headed down the corridor towards the tomb.

The tomb was just as it had been when Traviatta had seen it with her father the day before. The statue of Malik Al-Sayf still occupied most of the room, with his fellow assassins in their little nooks guarding him. Traviatta sat on the edge of the large statue, pondering the message her father had left in the book. She had deciphered "tomb" to mean the place in which she now was, and of course she knew what he meant by "key". But what did he mean by "live"?

Traviatta stood up and paced the room, hoping for an idea to strike as to what her father had meant with his hasty message, when she noticed a small detail on the Malik statue that she had failed to notice. Inside the Brotherhood crest on the statues base was a small, round lever. Traviatta knelt and twisted the lever, which revealed a small keyhole nearby that was just the right size for the silver key that she had found. Her curiosity piqued, she inserted the key and turned it. With a click, a small drawer built into the base of the statue opened. It contained only one object; a folded piece of ivory parchment lay near the front. Traviatta gasped and hurriedly picked up the letter when she recognized the dark purple wax seal on the front as that of the Sognitore family.

Breaking the seal, she read the letter carefully.

"To my dearest daughter,

If you have the unfortunate pleasure of reading this letter, then I regret to inform that I, your father, am either kidnapped or dead, from attacks by the group called the Rogues. Please do not fear for me, my child. Wherever I am, I assure you that I will always have the most love and affection for my little girl.

In regards to what should happen next, I ask you to send word to a good friend of mine; one of my fellow ex-assassins by the name of Mario Auditore. Mario is very kind and very skilled and will, I am sure, graciously assist you in the training that I have been denied to give you. Whatever you plan, do keep safe. It is a dangerous world, and, I do not mean to frighten you, but if the Rogues manage to capture you, you would be in great danger. Please, obey Mario, like I know you will. He was like a brother to me when we were assassins and I'm sure he will take good care of you. One more thing, my sweet girl. Go into the parlor and take down the portrait of you and your mother. Give the wall a push, enter the room, and take everything from the chest on the wall. I was hoping to wait to give you these until you had finished your training, but now, I think you deserve them. Live the Creed, learn as much as you can, and love often; never languish, or dwell on the past. And always remember that nothing is true; everything is permitted.

All my love and blessings,

Luigi Sognitore"

Her father's letter struck a deep chord with Traviatta, who held the letter to her heart, holding back sobs. She could not fathom how she would live by herself, without the one parent she had left. Her father was everything to her, especially after those stronzini stole her from her mother. Her sweet, gentle, beautiful mother, whom Traviatta had barely known…Her brave mother, standing to face a bloodthirsty group of killers, simply to protect those she loved. A nasty sneer spread across Traviatta's face and she could feel even more resentment towards those bastardos, the Rogues, who had taken away everyone in her life that was important to her. Now, she only had one option left. She needed to contact Mario Auditore, and soon; her father could not have suggested she get help from this man for nothing. But how to get ahold of this man she knew next to nothing about? Deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed, she walked briskly back to her fathers office.

When she arrived, Traviatta began to search for clues to her father's whereabouts, when she suddenly overheard several serving men chatting outside the broken window. Outside, rain was still falling lightly, but neglected to completely muffle the voices of the servants.

"What are we supposed to do, without Messier Sognitore?" Traviatta heard one of the servants say. "Are we supposed to take care of this whole place without his help, or what?" "It doesn't matter, anyway, Federico. While the boss is away, it means less work for us!" "Surely you're joking! That daughter of his will whip us into shape if we don't listen." "Regardless, our workload will certainly be less." "But, what if she contacts that Auditore person Sognitore was always corresponding with?" "You mean that Florentine fellow?! Bah! What difference would he make? Especially living in that dung heap, Monterriggionni." "Well, I'll tell you one thing. I would rather keep pressing grapes and drinking wine all day than have to listen to a new '_master'_ anyway."

The other servant laughed loudly. From far away, another servant shouted something that Traviatta couldn't understand. One of the servants yelled something back in Italian, and Traviatta waited until she heard their footsteps dissipate before she opened the drawer her father had indicated and began searching for the brass key. Rummaging through the drawers contents, eventually her hand bumped an empty inkwell, which she took out. To her surprise, inside was a small brass key, with the crest of the Assassins pressed into its top.

Dropping the key into her pocket, Traviatta left her father's office and a few workmen with tools and panes of glass to repair the window entered right behind her. She headed down the marble stairs and turned right, into the spacious parlor. The parlor was floored in dark grey stone tiles with a large fireplace at the front. There were a few red and gold couches near the fireplace, with matching red walls. A lovely stone working of the Sognitore family crest hung above the fireplace mantel. On the right wall of the parlor, framed in ornate wood worked with gold, was a tall portrait. It was obvious that the portrait was painted with great care; the delicate strokes that made it up gave away the hard work the artist had spent on it. In it, a lovely young woman with enchanting dark eyes and shining waves of chocolate colored hair smiled demurely; she bore such a strong resemblance to Traviatta that it was easy for all who passed it to know exactly whose mother it was. In the young Florentina Sognitore's arms was a chubby baby, dressed in a long white gown, a shock of dark hair just barely peeking out from under her white lace cap.

Traviatta gazed at the portrait and smiled softly. This portrait was the only clue Traviatta had as to how her mother looked once she had married and Traviatta looked at it every day, wondering almost constantly if her mother was guiding her footsteps in life. Now, Traviatta reached up and seized the picture by the frame, removing it from the wall as if she were afraid it would crumble into dust between her fingers. She put it gently to one side and began to tap on the wall, pressing her ear against it, to listen for a spot that she might push to access the hidden room. "Ah ha!" She cried victoriously, hearing a spot she knew was hollow. When two hands pressed against the wall didn't work, she shoved against it with her shoulder and, eventually, the wall slowly turned and she vanished through the wall and into the secret room beyond.

This hidden room was so different, and yet so amazing, that Traviatta couldn't believe she'd never noticed it before. Ancient looking papers with writing scribbled on them in Arabic hung, framed, on the walls. The beautiful mahogany desk in the middle room was carved with the Italian phrase "Nothing is true; everything is permitted". The desk was exactly as its former occupant had left it; various papers were spread on the desk, along with a half finished letter, and a small piece of folded parchment, on which was a messy looking list of names. Some of the names had been scratched off, replaced with others, or blotted out entirely. None of the names on the list were familiar, but Traviatta picked up the half-finished letter and began to read.

" To Mario Auditore, my confidante and friend.

Mario, I fear that my life may be in danger. Lately, there have been more and more strange occurrences, here in Veronesi, and beyond as well. Those bastardos', the Rogues, have stopped visiting me to demand their payment. Their last visit was months ago. Almost every night, I am followed home by men in dark cloaks. I am afraid, my friend; more afraid than I have been in years, but it is not so much for myself, as it is for my sweet daughter. You remember Traviatta, do you not? It has been so long since you have seen her, but she truly is her mother's daughter; in appearance and personality.

I have a favor to ask of you, if I may. You may believe me to be a coward, but I long for Traviatta to have the training she deserves, as the ascendant and heir to two noble families of assassins. Soon, I am going to request Traviatta to travel to Firenze. I truly hope that you will be there to meet her, and take her to Monterriggionni, to give her the training I cannot. For you see, my friend, I must go to hunt these Rogues and put an end to their cruelty; to protect my home, my city, my country, my friends, my fellow assassins, and my dear daughter, who I love above all. Please send word-"

The letter stopped abruptly, with a smear of ink on the final letter. Traviatta smiled at her father's kind words and placed the letter right back where it had been; an act of respect to her father, even in his absence. As Traviatta turned away from the desk, she noticed a large chest along the far wall; it was made of a shining silver metal and worked with vines, flowers, and wild animals, intermingled with the crest of the Assassins throughout. Lifting the latch, Traviatta's breath caught in her throat and she nearly felt like she would choke.

Inside, resting peacefully on top of a pile of delicately feminine assassin robes was an exquisite hidden blade, exactly like the one her father had showed her. It featured a shining silver arm guard with an assassins crest and a tough leather glove attached, so it would slip easily onto her arm, while also keeping it safe. Traviatta unknowingly reached towards the blade and discovered her hands were trembling and she nearly dropped the blade as she picked it up. Turning it over in her hands, she ran her fingers over the delicate silver arm guard, admiring the pattern before slipping the hidden blade onto her arm with a flourish so delicate and precise that it was almost loving in its tenderness.

Immediately, Traviatta felt a chill down her spine; whether it was of fear or excitement, she did not know. All she did know, however, was that this blade, this beautiful blade, felt like it was made only for her while, at the same time, she could feel its craftsmanship and design were almost ancient in their style. The slightest of motions from her forearm and the shining silver blade showed itself. Although she at first felt squeamish to the thought of driving this blade into someone, a faint smile spread across her lips as she imagined the blade stained red with the blood of those who had torn her family apart.

A few quick moments later and Traviatta had put on the robes in the silver chest. To her delight, they were a perfect fit. The robes were beautiful and surprisingly comfortable, though they still were strong enough for protection. The robes featured a black hood, lined in a bloody scarlet. There was a partial cape on the back with a white front and red inside that made a stark contrast with the black of the hood and the black skirt, lined in black lace. The charcoal colored corset, which laced up the front with black laces, had two layers underneath with the pointed collars overlapping; one black and lined with lace, the other grey with white and red pinstripes. The edge of the grey fabric with the white and red pinstripes peeked out onto the black skirt, which made a bold statement with her snowy white boots and matching white gloves, lined in red silk. The finishing touch on the ensemble was three cherry red ribbons, tied around her waist, laced through a silver buckle in the shape of the crest of the assassins.

Traviatta had never felt such a sense of power; the power that flowed in her veins, simply bestowed by a simple outfit. But that was not all that gave Traviatta a sense of confidence, as she put a leather satchel of supplies over one shoulder. Traviatta knew now that she would always have an upper hand; a permanent link to the Brotherhood and, in turn, her family. The simple device she now wore on her arm would, so soon, be stained with the blood of those who had cheated her out of the wisdom of a grandfather, the gentle sweetness of a grandmother, and, most important of all, the loving care of a mother.

With a quick word to an astonished looking Chachi to take care of the Villa, Traviatta Sognitore put up the black hood on her assassin's robes, shading her face in darkness. The shadow sweeping either side of her face was unusual to her but, she knew, it would soon become as familiar to her as life itself.

Refusing to look back, only forward, she whistled for faithful Cornelius, who slid to a halt by her side. Leaping nimbly onto his back, she gave him a swift kick and sped through the streets of Verona. Traviatta planned her journey as she rode. She hoped to be able to find a willing captain, ship, and crew to sail her down the Adige River, towards Firenze. From there, she would try to gain an audience with a prominent political figure of Firenze, perhaps a judge, or a holy father, to locate Mario Auditore, at the Villa Monterriggionni, and take one more step to enact her revenge on the Rogues, who dared call themselves assassins, and punish them for the empty life they had forced upon Traviatta and the little of her family that remained.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I'm baaack! :) Did you miss me? I've got plenty more to share with everyone. Enjoy, rate, and review if you'd like! ^_^

Traviatta rode through the day and managed to make it to the Adige riverside by the time the sun had finished setting. Several ships sat in the harbor while muscular, sweating workmen unloaded the last of their parcels from ships. A crusty looking ship's captain, dressed in clothes that appeared to be covered in years' worth of dust, observed the men as they loaded the packages. Sliding down from the saddle and hitching Cornelius to a nearby post, she approached the captain.

"Biongiorno, Messire."

"Yeh. What choo want, rigazza?"

"I need a ship to take me to Firenze. As soon as possible, preferably."

"En why would I help yeh? Whud do I git in return? I see no benefit for meh." Traviatta took out a small money pouch, full of gold florins.

"This should cover any expense you might go through on my account."

The captains eyes glinted with greed and he quickly snatched up the pouch and took out one of the coins and bit it. Seeing it was genuine, he looked back at Traviatta. "

Seems real enough to me, but a bit more…"

Irritated, Traviatta put a hand on his shoulder and the cold metal of her hidden blade was soon pressed to the protruding vein in his neck.

"I think that's more than enough for a little trip down the river, don't you think?" She hissed, pressing the blade forcefully to his neck, but not enough to draw blood. Looking suddenly fearful, the captain shot back from Traviatta and hastily handed her back the pouch. "

Please, do board, Madonna. We'll get you to Firenze post haste and in the utmost comfort. Please, after you." He said, voice trembling as he gestured towards the gangplank leading to the ship. "Ai! Men! Prepare to set sail for Firenze! All hands on deck!" He shouted to the dirty sailors lolling nearby. Smiling smugly under her hood, Traviatta sauntered up the gangplank to the ship and perched on one of the sides of the ship, looking out to the river, as the sailors scrambled about on deck to prepare for departure.

By the time the ship had arrived at the port nearest to Firenze, Traviatta had climbed to the crow's nest of the ship, to watch for the enormous monument that was Santa Maria Del Fiore, the stunning cathedral Florence was so known for. "Madonna, we have arrived!" A sailor called from below as the other docked the ship in port, early the next morning. Glancing once more out to the horizon, where the golden sun had finally begun its daily trek across the sky, Traviatta beamed in excitement. She could feel it, deep in her heart and soul, that the adventure of a lifetime was only a short distance away.

Leading Cornelius off the ship by his harness, Traviatta looked around her at the rolling, olive colored hills of the Florentine countryside. There were few people on the roads which led out of the city. Slipping a white boot into the straps of the saddle, she climbed onto her horse and gave him a nudge. He took off at a smooth gallop down the roads, as the sun reappeared from behind a cloud, a bright yellow beacon of fire, lighting her way.

After a brief, pleasant ride throw the country, Traviatta could see the edge of a large wall appearing in the distance. As she approached she recognized it as a large metal gate. A few city guards, dressed in red and black, some with gold armor, paced the gate or stood nearby, some chatting casually. She hopped down from the horse and flipped back her hood, shaking out her dark brown waves. She led Cornelius up to the gate and one of the guards approached her. "

State your business here; be brief."

"I'm visiting family." Traviatta said simply, staring down the guard, challenging him with her eyes to deny her entrance.

"What is your surname?" Unexpectedly, this question caught Traviatta off guard. The guards would never let her into the city if they recognized her last name as that of a citizen of Verona. Using the only name that could come to mind, Traviatta straitened herself up to full height and said "Auditore." "Auditore? I thought they were all snuffed out with the hanging of Giovanni and those kids of his." She struggled to keep the uncertainty from her voice; she had no idea who this Giovanni person was, or why he was hanged, but she decided it best to be blunt. "My husband is an Auditore. Now, please let me in." The guard gave her a funny look, before looking up to the guard in the tower who ran the gate. Slowly, the metal gate began to rise from the ground. With a nod at the guard, Traviatta, heart pounding, walked through and right into the sunbaked jewel of city.

Once she was away from the eyes of the guards, Traviatta put her hood up once again and climbed back onto Cornelius, leading him carefully through the streets to avoid the various citizens who walked the streets. Unsure where to begin her search for the Auditore villa, Monterriggionni, she decided it best to ask, before she found herself lost. "

Excuse me." She called to a group of guards standing nearby. "Where might I find the villa Monterriggionni? I'm visiting from out of town."

"You're in the wrong place; if that's the place you're looking for." One of the guards said. "Head out the southernmost gate and take the western road."

Traviatta nodded her thanks and headed towards the gate, Cornelius' large hooves clip clopping down the street as she approached the southern gate. Three lanes branched off in different directions. One went towards olive colored hills, another between some trees, and, lastly, a road led towards a little cobblestone bridge over a small stream, bordered by trees. Recognizing this road as the western road the guard had mentioned, Traviatta turned and led Cornelius down the road, to an uncertain future.

The ride was peaceful, with a few cool breezes on the wind, smelling of impending fall. The waving grasses in the fields seemed to be swaying in a rhythmic dance as she went on her way. Soon, she rounded a large hill and spotted a large grey shape on the horizon. Hurrying Cornelius forward, she recognized it as an enormous grey stone villa, nestled on the hillside like a pearl on the ocean floor.

Tying her horse to a post near the stone archway that led into the villa, Traviatta flipped her hood up again, a bit fearful of what she might find inside this strange place. As she headed down the wide main street, towards the villa's manor, a few citizens shot her funny looks.

"They must not get many strangers out here. I had better be careful that I don't cause any trouble, showing up like this." She thought, as she headed up one of the stone staircases leading to the huge house of Mario Auditore and his family. Stopping right outside the huge marble doorway, she threw her hood back and shook out her hair; she had to make sure Mario recognized her as Luigi's daughter.

Reaching out a hand and trying the doorknob, she was surprised when it opened onto a lovely front lobby, gleaming with expensive looking, creamy white marble. Her boots made a clacking sound on the smooth stone as she peered into a nearby room. It was a large, wood paneled office, with many bookshelves, filled to the top, a large wooden desk covered in papers, and a huge table with a diorama of the villa.

Traviatta noticed a small hallway, leading to the left from the large desk. The click of the short heels of Traviatta's boots caused a frantic sound of shuffling papers from inside the room. "Nipolte! Biongiorno! Come in, come in! Don't be a stranger!" A man's loud voice called from inside the office. A slight fear that she had walked right into the wrong house, she took a few steps forward and looked into the tall ceilinged room ahead of her. There were several tall bookshelves and a desk twice in size and splendor of the previous one. A thick, broad chested man with black hair, streaked with silver, sat on the corner of the desk. One nearly black eye looked at her in surprise, the other was pale, a sign of obvious cataracts or even blindness.

"I must apologize. I think I may be in the wrong place…" Traviatta started to say, an embarrassed blush starting to spread across her cheeks. The man at the desk suddenly smiled wide and brightly laughed. He soon had hugged her as tightly as her father might have.

"I thought I knew you from somewhere! That look of embarrassment looked just like the one your father would get when he was younger. Traviatta, it has been far too long!"

"You're Signore Mario Auditore?"

"The one and only! Here, please, sit. I'm sure we have much to discuss."

Traviatta took a seat in one of the chairs near the desk. Mario smiled at her like he would an old friend. "You do look a lot like your sweet mother. But those are your father's eyes."

"Please, Signore Auditore…"

"Oh, just call me Mario."

"…bene. Please, Mario, you have to help me get him back. I need to find my father. I need to bring the same pain to those that killed my mother that they have given me." Instinctively, her fists clenched tight at her sides, as if clamping down on the necks of those bastardos who had torn her family apart.

"I understand your need for vengeance, dear girl. But I can see you still have that look of wide eyed innocence about you; the look of a newborn assassin." Mario put his arms on his desk and looked at her somewhat speculatively. "Traviatta, you've not killed before." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Looking down at the blade on her arm, she shook her head slowly, feeling a lot like a rookie thrown into the Olympics. Mario beamed cheerfully. "Well then! We can't have you going out unprepared." The smile vanished quickly, like a damp cloth being put over a burning candle. "The world is a dangerous place, Traviatta. You have to be ready to defend yourself and take lives at will. Assassins cannot show mercy or compassion, but we do have some respect for death. I shall teach you the ways of an Assassin and how to honor those you kill."

He paused and glanced at a paper on his desk. "My nephew, Ezio, will be arriving in a few days' time. My niece and sister-in-law are staying here also." Mario folded his arms on top of the desk. "Ezio will help you learn to curtail your need for vengeance. Do not worry, dear girl. He is one of us. He too has felt the pain of losing a parent to deception, but he has come far from the boy he once was. It'll not be easy, but I have faith in you." "

"Do you really think I can do this, Mario?" She asked, her heart quivering with uncertainty for the fate that so soon awaited her.

"I know you can, Traviatta. You are your father's daughter; the daughter of an Assassin. But, you are also yourself. And, I firmly believe that if you have faith in yourself, you can accomplish anything you set your mind to."

The last, gentle touches of early fall slowly evaporated away. The leaves of the trees at the villa Monterriggionni turned crisp and golden and began to fall. Every day, all day, and sometimes late into the night, Mario would train Traviatta in combat. She would fight and block and dodge and counter over and over and over again, until she eventually collapsed into bed, muscles aching and sore.

To her constant elation, Traviatta could see her skills improving. Her sword fighting skills had become very formidable, even surprisingly so. Her physical and mental strength had grown by leaps and bounds over the few months of training, but her emotional strength was still weak. A few words about her family, mother, or any sensitive subject could throw her into an emotional tailspin or a boiling fit of fury and rage.

Eventually, Traviatta tried to contain these outbursts. She would go to her room, scream or sob into a pillow, clench her fists. But Mario had begun to notice, especially one day when she snapped at a serving maid for stepping on her foot and, in turn, dropping the wine she was carrying.

He knew he had to help her. Being the smart man he was, he formulated a plan. He had received a letter from his nephew late the previous week, saying he would be arriving shortly to visit with the family. Mario earnestly hoped, as he began to straighten up the villa for his nephew's arrival, that being around another person close to Traviatta's age might help her and grant her more control to her emotions.


	5. Chapter 5

~ And here's another chapter for you all to enjoy. :) It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy it! I'm at a little bit of a roadblock with this story, but I'm trying to wiggle out of it!

Enjoy, rate, and review if you'd like! ^_^

PS: I don't own Assassin's Creed, just my darling OC's

The day he was to arrive was breezy and cool, with plenty of sunshine. Traviatta was out on an assignment in the streets of Firenze. She was to corner and dispose of a corrupt local politician and retrieve the funds he had smuggled out from the local poor families, through taxes. Feeling good and oddly confident, Traviatta wove in and out of the colorful people in the streets, looking for the distinctive blue and red outfit that set apart the governments employees.

Deciding it best to get a bird's eye view to locate her target, she climbed nimbly up the side of a building, gripping the window ledges until she could pull herself to the roof with ease. Hiding quickly behind a tall chimney to avoid the investigative eyes of guards, she watched the streets below until she saw a blue and red blur move hastily through the crowds. The politician made the abhorrent mistake of taking a peaceful back road, with few people around. Traviatta couldn't suppress a smirk; it was almost too easy. Traviatta nimbly followed alongside him on the rooftops. She leapt to a nearby balcony and her muscles tensed in anticipation; she was ready for her ambush. Before she could take the leap and drive her blade across his neck, there was a faint rustle from nearby.

Traviatta suddenly turned her head to a figure dressed in white. As swiftly as they had arrived, they soon had leapt, almost flown, off a nearby rooftop. They swung off a nearby laundry line like a wild vine and jumped the politician, silencing him quickly. Annoyance flickering across her soft features, she moved onto the balcony ledge and leapt into a nearby wagon full of hay.

"Hey, stronzo. You stole my target." Traviatta said, standing and staring down the stranger with dark eyes as she plucked hay from her hair. When the figure had stood up, Traviatta took a brief moment to analyze the figures strange outfit; white, red accents, fine cloth, black cape, and a familiar looking white hood that cast just enough shadow to hide the eyes…"You! You're an…!" Traviatta cried just before she heard a shout from nearby. Glancing quickly toward a nearby building provided just the right moment for an unseen assailant to smack Traviatta over the head with a blunt sword hilt and then her world went black.

Traviatta remained in darkness for what felt like ages. Soon, her senses burst back to life with a prickling, painful cold on the side of her head.

"How is she?" A man's voice asked from nearby. Traviatta didn't recognize it; it was smooth, crisply accented, and pleasant to listen to; the voice of a young man.

"She'll be fine. No broken bones, no concussion, no lasting damage. Just a nasty cut and bruise. She appears to be waking up; I believe I just saw an eyelash flutter." Another voice replied, this one slightly raspy and older, probably a dottore.

"Thank God she's alright. Her father would be in hysterics to come home to see something happen to his bambina." A third man's voice replied, this one she recognized as Mario's. "Dottore Fittone, thank you. I'll be able to handle things from here." Traviatta heard a faint clink of coins and the fading footsteps of the dottore. "Nipolte, could you give us some privacy for a moment?"

"Yes, Uncle." The young man's voice said and soon his footsteps had faded as well.

"Traviatta? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" Traviatta coughed slightly. A jab of pain from the wound on the side of her head caused her to groan and she slowly blinked open her eyes and looked around. She was back at Monterriggionni, in a pretty room of royal blue and shining gold accents. Traviatta found her senses in awe once again at the wealth of this family that could afford such sumptuous décor.

"Ha! I knew you'd come out of it! Brava!" Mario said excitedly. He was sitting at the end of the bed, beaming. "How do you feel, dear?" He asked, the smile vanishing quickly.

"Sore. But, I'm alright. Thank you so much for taking care of me."

"No trouble at all! Now, tell me, what exactly happened to you out there? It was quite fortunate that Ezio happened upon you when he did, but he told me that you would probably know more about what happened than he would."

"So that must have been Ezio." Traviatta thought, straining as she sat up slightly. "I don't really remember too much, to be honest. I saw Ezio and was about to say something when I heard a yell. I turned my head, felt something strike me, and then I was just down."

"Ezio saw the man that struck you and tried to hunt him down, but he lost him. Do you think it was…one of them?"

"The Rogues? I'd wager it was one of their flunkies hired to take me out."

"Well, I'm glad you're alright. If you feel well enough, I've had your clothes washed and the chef left you a bite to eat. When you've finished, come to the office and we'll have you and Ezio properly introduced and I'll tell you about where you should go first."

After a moment or so of rest, Traviatta sat up in bed and pulled her dress back over her head. She stood in front of a nearby looking glass and smoothed her hair. Fortunately, her dark waves just covered her wound on the side of her head. She pinched her cheeks and bit her bottom lip to bring a bit more color to her features. She was feeling out of the ordinary; oddly self-conscious. "I suppose meeting the man that saved your life is a good reason to be so." Taking a few nibbles from the tray the chef had left, Traviatta left the room, her heart pounding oddly.

Traviatta headed down the stairs and through the smaller office and into Mario's larger one. Mario stood behind his desk, while her savior stood nearby. Traviatta glanced at him and stared for a moment; this was the first time she had actually seen his face without the signature hood. Overall, Traviatta admitted reluctantly, Ezio Auditore was one of the most handsome men Traviatta had ever seen. His hair was black-brown and straight, pulled back with a bit of red ribbon.

"There she is! Come in, come in, my girl. No need to lurk in doorways."

Embarrassed, Traviatta walked forward into the office and took the seat next to Ezio.

"I'm glad to see you so improved, but we must get straight to work."

"Uncle, I thought you were going to introduce me to my lovely new traveling companion?" Ezio asked, glancing at her with a brief smile.

"Oh, that's right. Ezio, this is Traviatta Sognitore."

"A pleasure, Madonna." He said smoothly, bowing over her hand.

Traviatta flushed slightly pink; she wasn't used to such formality but she quickly muttered "It's good to meet you as well, sir."

"Now, I've managed to snag a lead on the Florentine branch of the Rogues. Here in Firenze they run a child slavery operation."

"I would have expected no less." Traviatta spat with disgust.

"Their head here is a man they call Lord West. He's a foul man, raised on the blood of the innocent. He kidnaps children right from their mother's arms and sells them to rich and powerful, just for his own profit." Mario said with a sneer. He sat down behind his desk and crossed his arms. "If we can cut him off, we can paralyze them economically, opening the way for us to strike."

"How are we to find him?" Traviatta asked.

At this, Mario smiled suspiciously. "Once you find out where and how West operates, see if you can disguise yourselves as an upper-class married couple. Make it…convincing." He paused and Traviatta rolled her eyes when he winked at his nephew. "Gain his trust and find out where he keeps the children. Once you get inside, get the children out safely. Kill West and anyone who stands in your way as cleanly as possible."

"It's almost too easy." Ezio said with a smirk.

"You'll take good care of Traviatta, won't you nipolte. The Sognitore's have been very good to us through the years."

"Of course, Uncle."

"Bene, bene. You are both welcome to stay here as long as you need. Take whatever supplies you need to prepare yourselves. And, Traviatta, please, don't strain yourself. If you feel like your injury is worsening, let me know and I can have Ezio carry on without you."

"I can assure you that will not happen, but I do thank you, Mario. You have been so kind to me."

"You are always welcome here, Traviatta. I wish you the best of luck in finding the answers you seek."

Traviatta felt strange and uncomfortable as she walked out of Monterriggionni, Ezio ahead of her by a few steps. She stared at the ground as she walked, deep in thought. Mario had told her where to go, who to talk to, who her target should be; everything she needed to know. Yet, she still felt odd about the whole incident. She barely knew her traveling companion, or the city she was in. As they reached the outer gateway of Monterriggionni, Cornelius snorted a greeting, but Traviatta didn't climb up yet.

"Traviatta? Is everything alright?" Ezio asked, as he adjusted the saddle on his white horse, which stamped briefly and impatiently. The loud thud of its hoof on the dirt road made Traviatta look back up quickly.

"Oh yes, I'm fine." She said, stroking Cornelius's glossy black muzzle. "I just miss my father." She took a shaky breath. "I miss him so much…" A hot tear ran down her cheek and landed at her feet. Anxious to make sure Ezio didn't see her tears, she kicked at it angrily with her white boot.

"I think of my father often, also." Ezio said quietly. Traviatta glanced at him from where she stood and he met her gaze with eyes that appeared wise beyond their years. "My father and brothers were killed right in front of me. It's been two years since then, yet I still haven't forgotten the last time I saw them."

Traviatta looked down and shook her head slightly. "I'm so very sorry, Messire Auditore. I should have held my tongue! I didn't mean to bring up such uncomfortable memories."

"Non è un problema. They're at peace now." Ezio said with a smile. "And, please, call me Ezio."

Happy to not have offended her new companion, Traviatta slipped her foot into the straps of Cornelius's saddle and climbed up, stroking his thick black mane. Soon, she and Ezio were riding towards the city as a striking contrast of black and white, Monterriggionni slowly vanishing behind them. Traviatta's hood blew back and she let her dark hair flow out behind her like a dark cape. She smiled brightly as they rode into the midmorning sun; she was finally on her way!


End file.
